


To Tango

by andveryginger



Category: Forever (TV), Forever Knight
Genre: Auld Lang Syne, Crossover, F/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9206543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andveryginger/pseuds/andveryginger
Summary: After weathering a year that brought an end to Henry's deceptions; revealed the truth of his immortality to Jo; and brought them back to friendship and beyond, our favorite detective and medical examiner look forward to the new year ahead.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superlc529](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superlc529/gifts).



> Posted _sans_ beta, with apologies. Any mistakes and inconsistencies you see now are definitely my own.

With a double of twenty-five year old Macallan in hand, Doctor Henry Morgan leaned against the antique bar, gaze sweeping over the room in appraisal. Designed to evoke the aesthetics of a Prohibition-era speakeasy, even he had to admit the decorator did an admirable job: Darker wood tones and brass scrollwork provided a cozy, opulent feel, while the warm, yellow light cast by the brass and crystal chandeliers pushed the atmosphere into decadence. Behind the bar, a variety of amber and clear alcohols dominated the shelves, bottles labelled clearly. To his right, various patrons attempted the Charleston, bouncing along to the sounds of a jazz quartet. The musicians themselves were packed into a small alcove stage, clad in full dinner dress, complete with bow ties and tails.

But the authenticity went only so far. He remembered well the hazy cloud of cigarette smoke that should hang at eye level, and the acrid aroma of bathtub gin that would have, in the era, followed him home, lingering in his sinuses well into the next day. Thus, unlike then, the liquor served here was -- in appropriate quantities -- safe. And, for now, there was little threat of being arrested simply for imbibing.

“You’re doing it again.”

Blinking, he turned to find his companion, Jo Martinez, hovering to his right. A dazzling rhinestone band circled her head, maroon and black feathers curling over the top -- a perfect match for the heavily-beaded sheath dress that shimmered with each move. Her long, dark hair, usually worn down in soft curls, had been pinned into an era-appropriate bob, finger waves framing her high cheekbones. Amusement danced in wide brown eyes as she looked up at him.

Henry regarded her with a wary smile. “Doing what, exactly?”

Her grin widened over the rim of her glass. “You’ve got that pardon-me-while-I-have-a-flashback look about you.”

He blinked again. It had taken a long while to repair their friendship, once she had discovered the truth: That her best friend and partner was over two hundred years old and could not, it seemed, die. When she had adapted -- and their relationship had progressed far beyond friendship -- she apparently learned to regard his condition with the same dry humor as his son, Abraham. It was, in retrospect, an approach well-suited to the dark humor of a law enforcement officer. “Pardon me while I _what_?”

“While you have a flashback,” Jo repeated. “It didn’t make sense before -- you’d space out, get this glazed look for about half a second before I said something and then, when I did, you snapped back to the present. Now that I know about your _condition_ , it makes so much more sense.” She paused only long enough to sip her drink before continuing. “Let me guess -- not exactly as you remember it?”

“Not… exactly.” He offered her a wry grin. “But they seem to have captured the better aspects of the era.”

She chuckled. “A ringing endorsement.”

Henry took the jab in the nature it was intended, chuckling and sipping his aged scotch. “And how is it, exactly, that we, as members of the law enforcement community, ended up in the modern recreation of a speakeasy on New Year’s Eve?”

“Nick arranged it -- something to do with a charity he supports,” Jo replied. She referred to one of their newest confidantes, Detective Nick Cullen, and his partner, fellow coroner Natalie Lombard. The two had joined their respective departments only a few months prior, but had struck up a quick friendship based on a mutual interest: Curing their immortal conditions. The only difference? Cullen and Lombard were vampires. New York, it seemed, was the best place for anyone to find a new start… even the subjects of myths and nightmares.

The gleam in Jo’s eyes turned decidedly impish and she leaned closer. “They even host a burlesque show on the weekends… if you’re interested.”

Caught mid-sip, the medical examiner nearly choked on his drink. He couldn’t help but grin, however, as Jo grabbed a napkin from the stack on the bar and wiped the spilled liquor from his chin and tie. “As I said -- the better aspects of the era.”

“I didn’t think that’d be your style.”

Henry shrugged. “Modern burlesque seems to be a glamorization of the historic,” he replied. “But, done properly, it can offer excellent social commentary through humor. And excellent appreciation of the human form… male and female these days, I think.” He smiled down at Jo, warmth sparking through him at the thought of her offering a more private performance. “Though I remain focussed on _one_ form in particular...”

“Well,” Jo drawled, “maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll get a chance to appreciate it again in the new year.”

His smile slipped into a lopsided grin. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

The detective nodded. He was gratified to see a similar spark of interest in her eyes. “See that you are.” Her eyes darted to his left, expression shifting once again, this time to one of recognition. “Speaking of Nick and Natalie…”

Turning slightly, Henry spotted the couple as they approached. In keeping with the club dress code, Detective Cullen had shed his usual designer jeans and blazer for a three-piece pinstriped suit, sandy blonde hair slicked back in an appropriate style. Henry was gratified to see that the suit was in keeping with his usual sartorial choices, constructed of a very fine worsted wool. Doctor Lombard was equally as elegant, clad in a sparkling shift of dark green that beautifully complemented her auburn hair and fair skin.

The two joined them at the bar and Cullen flashed his usual boyish grin. “Having a good time?”

“We are,” Jo responded. “I was just about to drag Methuselah here onto the dance floor, maybe get him to teach me how to do the Charleston properly.”

“I never was one much for the Charleston, really,” Henry said, grimacing. “I was always more of a --”

“...Foxtrot-type.”

The statement was made simultaneously by both himself and Nick. He regarded the male detective with a bright expression. “I’m rather pleased to hear you say that, Detective,” he said. “Though I am a bit surprised.”

“So am I.” Doctor Lombard looked to her companion with a wry grin. “Something tells me your _father_ wouldn’t have been a fan. I figured the Charleston appealed to your more rebellious tendencies.”

Cullen gave a rueful smile. “You’re right: he hated it,” he answered. “But, I… guess I still prefer the classics: Foxtrot; waltz; maybe the occasional minuet.”

“Indeed… though the minuet was a bit before my time.” Henry sipped his scotch, frowning briefly as he realized the drink was almost gone. He looked back up to the two detectives and his fellow coroner. “When I wanted to indulge my more… fractious nature, I chose to learn the tango.”

Jo and Natalie exchanged glances, brows raised. Both were clearly surprised. “Tango?” Jo echoed. “ _You?_ ”

“Well, it was rather more scandalous, especially at the time,” he explained.

Nick nodded. “Partners dancing so close together? Movements so overtly passionate? _Very_ scandalous. Especially once women started wearing short skirts, flashing the occasional bare knee, or more…” He offered a smirk to Henry.

“Utterly indecent… at least, at first.” Henry chuckled, shaking his head and looking to Nick. “I can only imagine what those offended by the tango would think now.”

“The Charleston pales in comparison.”

“One day, next year,” Jo began slowly, pausing to finish her drink, “ _you_ are going to teach me to tango. For now -- we’re going to bring in the New Year doing the Charleston. Or the Turkey Trot. Or... whatever is appropriate for the song that’s playing.” She placed her empty glass onto the bar beside him and gestured to his glass. “Go on -- drink up.”

Henry sighed. “Jo --”

She regarded him with a finely arched brow, impish gleam in her eyes. “Best behavior, remember?”

“Best behavior.” Resigning himself to his fate, Henry downed the last swallow of his scotch, placing the empty tumbler onto the bar next to hers. Then, with an exaggerated motion, he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

Jo looked inordinately pleased with herself. She hooked her arm through his with equal exaggeration. “We shall.”

Henry turned his attention briefly to Nick and Natalie. “If you’ll pardon us?”

“By all means,” Natalie replied with a chuckle. She hooked her arm around Nick’s. “Have fun!”

Fun was not entirely what Henry might call the Charleston. Jo’s enthusiasm and smile, however, were contagious and he soon found himself enjoying the dance much more than he had in the past. Perhaps, he mused, he had merely needed to find the right partner? Still, he was more than glad to hear the music give way to the quieter background hum. The female vocalist, who had well-imitated Bessie Smith earlier in the evening, took center stage.

“All right, folks,” she exclaimed in a significant drawl. There was little doubt in Henry’s mind that she was originally from somewhere far south of their present location. “We’ve got… less than ten seconds! Grab your guy or gal and pucker up!”

Jo was laughing as Henry pulled her closer, arms sliding around her waist. As her own settled over his shoulders, fingers knitted behind his head, she sobered. The countdown continued around them. “A momentous occasion,” he murmured, “ringing in the New Year together.”

_“Five!”_

Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. “They say whatever you’re doing at midnight is what you’ll spend your time doing in the year to come.”

_“Four!”_

“More time spent with you?” He smiled down at her. “I certainly hope so.”

_“Three!”_

“Even if it’s teaching me to tango?”

_“Two!”_

Henry chuckled, tightening his embrace, eliminating what little space remained between them. His gaze darted to her lips, then returned to her eyes. The warmth, affection, and passion he saw there stunned him, making him once again thankful they had weathered the previous year to emerge as friends -- and more. “ _Especially_ if I’m teaching you to tango.”

_“One!”_

“Then I’ll look forward to it, _Doctor Morgan_.”

_“Happy New Year!”_

Her voice had dropped an octave, a tone generally reserved for the bedroom. Grinning at the promise it held, he lowered his lips to hers. Into that kiss, he poured his last apology for the lies and deceptions necessary for his secret; he hoped his promise for the new year -- of passion, of love, and of the hope he once thought lost, filtered through as well.

Beyond them, the jazz quartet broke into a rendition of “Auld Lang Syne,” this particular arrangement performed in swing time. Henry drew back slowly and smiled down at her. “Happy New Year... _Detective Martinez_.”

“Keep kissing me like that, Henry, and you’d better call me 'Jo.'” She chuckled. “And happy New Year.”

**Author's Note:**

> When I first signed up for the exchange, I don't think this is what I had in mind. But, after a month of other complicating factors, this is where the muses led: Fluff with a bit of a surprise crossover... that probably gives me away. _*glares at muses*_
> 
> superlc529, I offer it humbly in response to your request, and wish you a very happy new year.


End file.
